


Whatever Is

by lusilly



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: Streets of Gotham, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusilly/pseuds/lusilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian misjudges a relationship, and it cuts deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Is

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Alexander Pope's Essay on Man, Epistle I, x.: "Whatever is, is right."
> 
> A reflection on Damian's character, and how he feels about people and what he wants and how he thinks. Damian's about 16 here, Colin boarding at Gotham Prep on a Wayne Foundation scholarship. Also wanted to take a look at Colin's darker side, the side the fandom sometimes glosses over. He's still a good kid, but he has his issues.

            “So anyway, my father’s left the case up to me. This is all I’ve got so far, and I’d say that we need to focus our attention down on the east end here. A reliable source informs me that there’s some form of headquarters there.”

            “Awesome. Are we going after that tonight?”

            Damian paused and considered this for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “Dick will be here in a few days. I don’t want to focus solely on our own mission without someone covering my usual routes.”

            “Pft. I think Batman can handle the rest of Gotham without you for _one_ night.”

            “You’d be surprised.”

            Damian minimized the portable, holographic screen. He was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the side of Colin’s low bed, where the other boy sat against the wall, his eyes still staring at the space where the information had been displayed above Damian’s head.

            There was a short pause, and then Damian said, almost patiently, “You aren’t supposed to talk like that here, you know.”

            “What?” asked Colin. “About Batman and stuff? I thought you said you installed all that tech, so you’d know if anybody could hear us.”

            “As a general rule, you’re not supposed to talk about it in civilian settings. Just like we don’t use real names in the field.”

            “Does this count as a _civilian setting_? I always forget. Feels kind of like a prison up in here.”

            Damian repressed a sigh and straightened up, taking a seat on the edge of Colin’s bed. “It isn’t that bad,” he said, but it was with a tinge of insistence, like a plea. “It’s better than that awful orphanage, isn’t it?”

            “Sometimes,” murmured the other boy. “But I’m not as smart as you. This is hard work for me.”

            “No one here is as smart as me. Believe me, things will get easier.”

            “They’re fine,” Colin said, shaking his head. “Things are easy right now. I’ve seen hard. This is easy. This is, like, kids’ stuff.”

            There was a short silence. Then Damian offered, “I’m sure you can come to the Manor on weekends, if you’d like.”

            “I doubt your dad needs another wayward orphan filling up his Cave.”

            “Well. We aren’t _all_ orphans.”

            Damian grinned, and Colin almost laughed. “Thanks,” said Colin. “But I should just start trying to get used to it here. I’m gonna be here for the next couple of years, right?”

            “I would hope so, yes.”

            “So I should get used to it.”

            “You don’t have to. I don’t.”

            “Yeah, well. I’m not you. So.”

            Damian gazed at the other boy intently. Something burned in his eyes, something that Colin couldn’t quite see as he looked down at his hands emptily, almost painfully.

            “I mean,” he continued, “it’s just like, it’s hard to balance all of this. Being Abuse makes it easier for me, you know? I don’t get as angry or whatever. But then I have to go back to just being _me_ , and I mean. I don’t really like who _me_ is. And it’s pretty hard so go back and forth so much, without really having a middle point. You know? Does that make sense?”

            “Yes,” said Damian, staring at Colin’s eyes, which still couldn’t look at him. “That makes perfect sense.”

            Colin actually laughed. “You _would_ say that, though,” he continued, somewhat bitterly. “Because it’s not like you ever have any adjustment problems.”

            “Wait,” said Damian, stopping him before he said any more. “Colin.”

            The ginger-haired boy looked at him finally, wearily. “Yeah?”

            The boy learned forward, an arm snaking out before him, around Colin’s neck, and before Colin could realize what he was doing, there was a gentle tickle of a pair of lips on his own, and then-

            “Woah!” said Colin loudly, knocking Damian’s arm away, dodging away from the other boy’s face in alarm. “Woah, woah, woah, what are you – what was _that?_ ”

            Confusion swirled across Damian’s face, but he masked it quickly; the hurt, however, didn’t quite go away. “What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “What do you _think_ that was?”

            Colin’s hand was at his face, his fingers pressed against his lips in shock. “Did you just – you did _not_ just-”

            “What?” asked Damian, and it was almost a demand. “Why do you look at me like that?”

            There was a tense silence, as Colin tried to process what had just happened, and Damian stubbornly refused to read the obvious emotions painted across the other boy’s face.

            “What are you _doing?_ ” asked Colin in a hush, once he had found his voice again.

            “What does it look like?” replied Damian aggressively. “I was – were you not _listening_ to our conversation, you were _inviting_ me-”

            “To what, making out? I was just talking! You know, about myself! Like people _do_! ”

            “Oh, please. It’s been weeks now and every time we speak, our discussions become more and more intensely personal. If that’s not an expression of interest, then I don’t know-”

            “Oh, _God_ ,” moaned Colin, covering his face. “You are _so_ broken.”

            Damian’s dark face, usually so calm, turned slightly red. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Don’t patronize me!”

            “I’m not,” Colin replied. “I’m just – _God_ , Damian, it’s just that sometimes I forget how utterly fucked-up you are.”

            “ _Excuse_ me?”

            “You just don’t know how people work,” said Colin, shaking his head sympathetically. “That’s not your fault.”

            “If you’re only going to insult me, then-”

            “Hey, _you’re_ the one who just tried to kiss me.”

            Damian fell silent, eyeing the other boy suspiciously.

            “Whatever,” said Colin. “It’s just that… jeez. I mean, you’re really cool, Damian. And you’re probably my only friend right now. But just because we’re really good friends doesn’t mean that I… _like_ you.”

            Damian looked at him. “You don’t like me.”

            “Not like that. You know?”

            Damian shook his head, looking away. “Well.”

            Colin just watched him.

            “I apologize,” he said, standing up. “I was under the impression…”

            “Wait, wait, wait,” said Colin, as Damian made it clear he was about to leave. “It’s okay. It’s just a mistake. We still have mission stuff to talk about, don’t we?”

            “No,” said Damian. “I don’t think so.”

            There was a tense silence.

            And then Colin said, “Fine. Go ahead. See you around sometime, then.”

            “Yes.”

            There was an awkward pause, and then Damian headed to the door and left, finding his motorcycle hidden in the same place he had left it. Silently, without pause, he slipped on his helmet and mounted the bike, heading back towards the nearest entrance to the Cave.

            His father was sitting before the computer, not yet in uniform. Bruce glanced at his son as he dismounted his motorcycle, then called, “Did you speak to Abuse about the case?”

            “Abuse is out,” replied Damian, heading to the stairs out of the Cave. “I’ll handle it on my own.”

            “Not possible. I told you, you need a partner on this one.”

            “I’ll contact Batgirl,” Damian shot back, reaching the stairs. “And I’m not going out tonight.”

            “I thought you had reconnaissance planned.”

            “Postponed.”

            Bruce actually turned away from the computer to look at his son. “What for?” he asked.

            “Nothing!” replied Damian sharply. “I’m just…tired.”

            He stomped up the stairs like an angry child; Alfred, halfway down the stairs and balancing a tray with a small snack on it in one hand, narrowly avoided being bowled over, then glanced at Bruce quizzically.

            Once Damian was safely out of earshot, Alfred descended the stairs and asked, “Is everything all right?”

            Bruce watched the space where Damian had been, then went back to the computer, hitting a few buttons. “The GPS in the cycle says it’s been stopped at Gotham Preparatory School for the past few hours.”

            “He’s been visiting young master Colin, no doubt. I’m glad for it. The boys usually get along famously.”

            “Usually.”

            “Perhaps they simply have a disagreement,” Alfred continued pointedly, “as boys often do.”

            Bruce was silent, staring at the screen.

            Gently, Alfred suggested, “But maybe it would be wise to go ask him for yourself?”

            Bruce looked at the old man, a look of something bordering on anxiety on his face. Alfred said, “You might be able to help.”

            For a second, neither of them moved. And then Bruce almost let out a sigh and stood up, heading up the stairs. “Prepare the suit and make sure the car is ready,” he said to Alfred. “If you can reach Oracle, let her know that I expect her to be ready for the Smith raid tonight.”

            “Very well, sir.”

            Bruce trudged up the stairs, less graceful than his son, but with no less determination. Damian’s room was nearest to the entrance to the Cave, unlike Dick’s room, which had been on the highest floor of the Manor, or Tim’s, which was beside Bruce’s study. Bruce stood before his son’s door, listening intently. He heard nothing.

            He held up a hand and knocked shortly. “Damian,” he said.

            “What do you want?” asked the boy venomously, his voice muffled through the door.

            Bruce hesitated, then asked, “Are you all right?”

            “No,” called Damian. “I’m very disturbed.”

            Bruce’s throat tightened slightly. “Why is that, son?”

            The door swung open and Damian glared up at him. “Because you just called me _son_ ,” he said, “which either means that you have some terrible news, or you hope for this to become a ‘ _moment_.’”

            Bruce looked at his son, then glanced around slowly and began, “For clarification’s sake, the latter would be…”

            “An unsuccessful endeavor, yes,” finished Damian for him, nodding impatiently. “Now leave me alone.

            He slammed the door close, but Bruce didn’t leave. “Would you like to talk?” he called through the door. “Did you have an argument with Abuse?”

            “No,” came Damian’s voice, sounding irritated. “And don’t call him that. He has a name.”

            “Are you sure you’re not going out tonight?”

            “Positive.”

            Bruce considered pushing it, but then relented. “All right,” he continued. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Alfred will be here if you need anything.”

            “Of course.”

            The man paused for a moment, then turned to head back to the Cave.

            By the next night, Damian was once again in uniform, heading out to his typical patrol route without a word about what may have happened the night before. Bruce took the silence to mean that he wasn’t interested in talking about it, so he didn’t press.

            Dick arrived by the weekend. He’d been out of state for a while, on a brief mission with some old teammates. He always seemed to enjoy returning home, and brought with him a sort of warmth and noise that the house was unaccustomed to.

            It was just the first night that Bruce talked him through his most recent case, then, after a pause, invited him to drive the Batmobile. Dick understood what he meant by that; he understood the words Bruce chose to say instead of the ones he really meant, and he didn’t begrudge him that. The man had trouble expressing it, but that didn’t mean that the emotion wasn’t there.

            “Sorry,” said Dick regretfully. “I was thinking I’d head out with Robin tonight.”

            Bruce nodded. “That may be a better choice.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yes.” He paused, then said, “Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

            “About what?”

            “He’s been upset for the past few days. Something happened with Abuse, I think.”

            “What about abuse?”

            “No, the boy – Colin Wilkes, the boy with the red hair. Abuse.”

            “Oh, right. Well, I’ll try to talk to him. But, you know, sometimes there isn’t really any-”

            “I’m going out,” came Damian’s distinct voice, from across the Cave, heading down to his cycle, pulling the hood up over his head. “Nightwing, I’ll diverge from my usual route on Elliot Avenue. I need you to cover that.”

            “Sure,” said Dick, glancing at Bruce, then hopping down to join Damian. “But I can come with you for a little bit, right?”

            Damian looked at Dick, then looked up at his father, then nodded. “Yes,” he said tightly. “I suppose you can.”

            They both mounted their bikes, and in a few moments, they were gone. Bruce turned back to the computer in silence.

            As they rode towards Gotham, there was a tense sort of silence between the two boys. Damian didn’t tend to talk too much in general, but it seemed different somehow. Like he was avoiding looking Dick quite in the eye, refusing to pause long enough to say a word.

            Dick checked that his comm was linked to Damian alone, then muttered, “So I heard you’ve been off your game lately.”

            Dick’s words came through the link in Damian’s ear, and he heard it like someone was whispering straight into his ear. His eyes narrowed slightly and then, without replying, he jerked his cycle sharply to the left, off of their usual route, heading down to where the water met the earth. A little taken aback, Dick followed him. Damian stopped the bike and dismounted, throwing his helmet off and scowling as he took a few more steps down the bank, towards where the water caressed the shore. Dick mirrored his movements, then asked, “Are you okay?”

            Damian didn’t look around at him. His eyes were focused across the water, at the boardwalk of Amusement Mile still half lit up in the darkness.

            “How much did he tell you?” he asked roughly.

            “Not much,” replied Dick carefully. “Just that you’ve been upset. And that he thought it had something to do with your friend Abuse.”

            Damian didn’t move.

            “Are you okay?” Dick repeated, reaching out to touch the boy’s shoulder. “Did you two have an argument?”

            “No,” said Damian, without moving his gaze.

            “Did he get hurt, or something? Did something go wrong on a mission?”

            “No.”

            “Then what happened?”

            “Nothing,” replied Damian.

            “Come on,” said Dick. “Did you guys get into a fight? Did he hurt you?”

            “No,” pressed Damian. “I told you. Nothing happened.”

            Dick didn’t say anything. Damian finally tore his gaze away from the lights across the water. “Colin and I have become very close,” he said, his voice low. “We’ve spent so much time together.”

            “Yeah,” said Dick. “I’m really happy about that. I know you don’t have a whole lot of friends here in Gotham, and you two need each other a whole-”

            “I misinterpreted that,” said Damian, cutting him off, putting a hand to his head as if he wanted to cover his eyes in shame. “I didn’t…I suppose I thought that our friendship meant more than it does.”

            Dick looked at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

            Angrily, Damian wrenched his shoulder from Dick’s grip and grumbled, “ _God_ , I am an idiot when it comes to these things.”

            “Hold on,” said Dick. “What happened?”

            Damian’s hand was still pressed to his face, covering his eyes. “I misinterpreted his intent,” he continued, his voice decidedly quieter now, but no less fierce. “That’s all. For months now we’ve been…” He took his hand away, and his voice became slightly louder. “I was under the impression that we had become closer than we actually are, it seems. I acted on that. I made a fool of myself.”

            “Wait,” said Dick, still cautious. “What do you mean? Closer how? And what do you mean by _acted_ on that?”

            “I kissed him!”

            Damian had spun around to look at the other man, his face plain and stricken. Hands shaking slightly, he looked away, almost ashamed. “I…attempted to, anyway. He did not…receive it well.”

            Dick just stared at him, trying to process this. “You and…Colin?”

            “Yes,” muttered Damian. “But I doubt we’ll be partners much longer. He was not happy.”

            “You thought that you two…had a thing?”  
            “Oh, don’t start,” said Damian darkly. “I feel stupid enough.”

            “No, no! I wasn’t going to say that. I mean, I can see why you’d think that. I know you two have been getting really close.”

            Damian just eyed him.

            “Are you okay?” asked Dick. “He _didn’t_ hurt you or anything, did he? Was he at least remotely cool about it?”

            Damian let out a quiet little sigh and then said, “He was gentle. I left. He didn’t ask me to leave. Not out loud.”

             “Well,” said Dick. “That’s good. I mean. I’m sorry. I really am. It sucks when somebody doesn’t feel the same way about you that you feel about them. But it just wasn’t the right time for you. You’ll find somebody else.”

            “No,” Damian shot back, annoyed. “It’s not like…”

            He stopped himself, shaking his head.

            Dick hesitated, then continued, “Have you talked to anybody about this?”

            “Only you. I expect you’ll keep this private. I want it to remain between Colin and me alone.”

            “More than that. I mean, I know you’re a teenage boy, you’re just figuring stuff out for yourself – but I’m here for you. You can talk to me whenever, about whatever. I won’t judge. Honestly, as upset I am that things can’t work out with Colin, I’m really happy for you.”

            Damian glanced at him. “And why would that be?”

            “It’s just that,” Dick began, “it’s a big thing, to start thinking about your sexuality and who you like, and it just seems like you’ve really accepted who you are and everything. I’m proud of you.”

            Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t understand,” he said.

            “Yeah, I kind of do,” said Dick. “You know Red Arrow?”

            Damian nodded.

            “He and I had…a thing, a while back. On and off for a couple of years. Got pretty serious at one point. So, I mean, I get it, to some extent.”

            Damian held his gaze for a while longer, then looked away. “I’m not really gay,” he murmured, looking down at the gravelly sand. “I know that’s what you mean.”

            “Well,” said Dick, slightly taken aback. “Okay. Then what would you call it?”

            “I don’t know,” said Damian. “It’s _just_ Colin, you know. It’s just… _him_. I don’t know how to describe it. But I’ve never…” he trailed off. Dick could sense that he was uncomfortable sharing this emotion, and knew that he shouldn’t press him. So for a long time, they stood there silently, listening to the waves lap the sandy shore.

            Finally, Damian continued, “No one has ever made me feel like this. It’s so easy with him. I don’t have to be anything more than what I am. Nor anything less, either. It doesn’t matter to him. The way he fights is so crude, but it’s so…so…” he broke off, at a loss for words. Sounding slightly disgusted, he finished, “ _Endearing_.”

            He looked up at Dick, almost pleadingly.

            “It’s not about me,” he said. “It’s just… _him_.”

            Dick looked at his little brother, unsure of what to say. Then, “I’m really sorry he doesn’t feel the same way. But sometimes it’s just not meant to be.”

            “You say that,” countered Damian. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

            “I know. You’re young. You don’t quite know yet. But one day you’ll find the right person for you.”

            “How do you know that?” questioned Damian, and with his bitter cynicism, there was also a distinct note of sincerity. “You haven’t found the right person. Neither has my father. Nor my mother.”

            “It doesn’t happen right away. And for people like us, it often takes a long time. And don’t be too sure about your dad not having the right lady. Just because he’s not married to her doesn’t mean they don’t feel the same way about each other.”

            Damian looked away. “My mother doesn’t love him,” he said. “She stopped loving him because of me.”

            There was a long, painful silence.

            Gently, Dick said, “That’s not true. Your parents are more complex than that. It’s a hundred other things.”

            “She told me,” he said bluntly. “Years ago.”

            Dick didn’t know exactly what to say. “Well,” he sighed, “if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t actually talking about your mom and your dad.”

            Damian glanced at him, confused for a moment, then things clicked. “Ah,” he said. “You mean the Catwoman.”

            “Yeah. You ever see them in action together?”

            “A few times.”

            “And?”

            “I…can see how you might think that.”

            Dick chuckled. “And hey, just because most of us around here have trouble maintaining a healthy relationship doesn’t mean that you will. I mean, half the heroes in the world are married, right? Superman, all of the Flashes, Aquaman…Green Arrow, sometimes…”

             “Pardon me if I’m not worrying just yet about whom I will marry. At the moment, I’m more concerned about finishing my work after I’ve just alienated one of my strongest allies in Gotham.”

            “Hey, you said he was cool about it, right? You two can still be friends. I’ve worked with a lot of exes, and they don’t punch me in the face that often.”

            “It’s different. He isn’t my _ex-_ anything.”

            Dick shrugged. “If he’s cool with it, then you can be to. You’re still good friends. You don’t have to lose that.”

            “Friends, I haven’t viewed him as a _friend_ for a year now. What we have is much more than that.”

            “What did he do to make you think that?” asked Dick, almost dubiously. “Was there flirting? Touching? Weepy calls at four AM?”

            “No,” said Damian scathingly. “We don’t need any of that. We worked together. We worked closely, and we worked well. That was all we needed.”

            “So you’ve been crushing on him for like a year now and you never told him.”

            “I didn’t need to tell him! I thought he knew!”

            Dick just looked at him.

            “I thought it was very clear,” Damian said, the hurt plain in his voice. “From the way we worked together…it was obvious. He had to have felt it too.”

            Dick looked at him, almost confused. “Are you sure there was no touching going on?”

            “We didn’t _need_ that,” Damian insisted. “I only…the other night, when we were together, I only thought that I might…I don’t know what I was thinking. But at least now I know how he feels.”

            “Hold on,” said Dick, stopping Damian. “You’re telling me you thought you were in a relationship with this kid for a whole _year_.”

            “I…yes.”

            “And you thought this just because of how you _worked_ together. Not because you two occasionally felt each other up, or made out in alleyways, or went out for Valentine’s Day. You just interpreted his friendship as a relationship.”

            “…Yes.”

            “And this went on for a whole _year_ , and you never once thought to talk to him about it?”

            “I thought he understood!”

            “No,” said Dick. “No, Damian – no one’s as smart as you are. And that’s what this is, by the way, before you start getting any negative ideas. You’re so smart that you saw something where there wasn’t really anything. You’re not delusional or stupid or anything, you’re just really smart and you tend to assume that the people you love are as smart as you are. Which is probably because among the other three people you love, two of them _are_ as smart as you are. Namely, your parents.”

            Damian looked at him suspiciously. Dick paused, inviting him to ask the question. “And who would the third be, then?”

            “Me,” said Dick earnestly. “And I know you call me a dumbass all the time, but I also know that you really do think I’m at your level. I’m not. I never have been.”

            These words hit Damian surprisingly hard, and he turned away slightly, relieved that his mask was waterproof enough to handle the odd wetness welling up in his eyes.

            “So what I mean is that if he were as smart as you, _he_ would’ve noticed. But since he’s not, you probably should have talked to him before you just assumed that you and he were in a relationship.”

            Damian sniffed slightly and wiped his nose, hoping that Dick would attribute that to the cold night air. “I hate talking,” he said.

            Dick laughed. “I know you do,” he replied. “But I hope that you and he talk this out a little more before you go back to your daily routine. He should know how you feel. As his friend, it would be a sign of trust and respect that you tell him all this.”

            Damian ran a hand through his hair, and then tried to surreptitiously wipe beneath his mask, to hide any tears that might be leaking out.

            “But like I said,” continued Dick, “I’m proud of you for acknowledging this. And thank you for talking to me about it. I appreciate how hard it must be.”

            Damian nodded, but refused to say anything, afraid that his voice would betray him.

            “Hey,” said Dick gently, and he reached out and took hold of Damian, pulled him into his chest. “It’s okay, kid. Don’t worry about it.”

            Damian let Dick hold him, but didn’t return the embrace. But he leaned against Dick heavily, and, after a few silent moments, his shoulders shuddered softly in a little sob. Dick held him for a while longer, but didn’t say anything. Damian was grateful for that.

            Finally, Damian pulled away slightly, so Dick let him go. The boy wiped his eyes, avoiding Dick’s gaze as Dick said, “You know what? Colin’s really missing out. You’re so much more than anybody knows. I wish everyone could see that. I wish at least you could see that.”

            “Let’s not get too sentimental,” said Damian. “You have the optimism of a child, has anyone ever told you that?”

            “Your old man has, actually. Many, many times.”

            Damian finished drying his eyes, and cleared his throat. “We should return to work, then,” he said. “Like I said, I’ll diverge from my own route by Elliot Avenue. I want you to cover that.”

            “Isn’t that the part of your route that coincides with Colin’s?”

            “You can see why I would want to avoid it.”

            “Here,” he said. “Why don’t I take up by the river? You and Abuse can take care of your thing by the harbor.”

            Damian paused, then conceded, “That would be possible.”

            “Good,” said Dick. “Let’s go for it.”

            Dick returned to his bike. Damian followed, almost reluctantly, picking up his helmet and mountain the motorcycle again. “Dick,” he said, just before they left.

            Dick glanced at him. “Hmm?”

            “Thank you.”

            A grin split across Dick’s face. “No, problem, kiddo,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

            If Damian had a reply to that, then it was obscured by the sound Dick revving his engines, and then they took off, returning to Gotham City as Nightwing and Robin, the Dynamic Duo riding together once again.


End file.
